


Un Amore Sinfonico: A Romance in Four Movements

by nouveau



Series: La Famiglia [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background AkuRoku, Butchering of Italian, Getting Together, Italian Mafia, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9557564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouveau/pseuds/nouveau
Summary: Life is never what you expect.-Italian Mafia AU.





	1. allegro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a sucker for AU's, and Kingdom Hearts loans itself incredibly easy to Mafia AU's. This was another story that I wrote in 2011 that got stuck on my Livejournal and never even surfaced on FF.Net. Polished up the grammar through editing but left everything else the same.
> 
> The story takes place in Italy and begins at the time that Xemnas is assembling the Organization. Demyx and Zexion are of unspecified ages here but are in the pre-teen ballpark. I tried to use the numbers of the Organization members to correspond roughly with when they were accepted into the family, so unfortunately Demyx didn't get to grow up bothering Roxas until a little bit down the road.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> _Originally written in 2011 on Livejournal_

Demyx is only acquainted with the Organization for two weeks when he begins to notice the structure in which many conversations of the family are built around.

When Vexen is mad, he starts off by clicking his tongue, and then voices his complaint to whomever is the target of annoyance. The person then replies with an apology, and that is that.

When Xigbar grows frustrated with a lack of action, he will bring up the weather off handedly before eventually asking for a game of darts to begin.

Even Xaldin has little cues, beginning to hum ever so quietly under his breath at breakfast in the shared _famiglia_ estate when he notices that the skies have opened favorably. The hums always accompany a (rhetorical) offer for the others to join him on the water for a day of sailing.

Demyx is quick to pick up these habits, practicing them in his head daily so that he will find his own comfortable place in the family as well.

 _Hello, my name is Demyx. How are you? It's nice to meet you!_ he rehearses mentally, imaging the welcoming smile, hug, and blooming conversation that will accompany the greeting.

 

* * *

 

The day that Demyx experiences his first attempt to try out his new, hopefully trademark conversation starter comes quickly on an early Tuesday morning. Signore Xemnas drives Demyx to a building an hour away from their estate and parks the car in front of a lush lawn of grass and stone pathways. Demyx unbuckles from his car seat and totters after the head of the family to the front steps, excitement gleaming in his green eyes.

But, when the _capo famiglia_ explains that Demyx is not allowed to follow him inside, the blond frowns and sits down on the main steps. He begins playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of his black jacket when the telltale sound of the main doors being opened rings in his ears.

Demyx turns around to see a smaller boy walking out of the building. The stranger, his hair the color of the lilac flowers that grow along the seaside cliffs, looks around the front lawn, disregarding the boy sitting on the steps. He then proceeds to sit adjacent from Demyx, pulling out a worn paperback book from inside his jacket.  

Demyx's chest swells with excitement as he fidgets nervously for a second before turning to face the new comer.

"Hello!" Demyx chirps, a smile adorning his face.

The boy, donned in a simple black suit, raises his head after a moment of silence, pencil stilling on the page of his notebook. He looks at Demyx for a second, unsure of why a sandy-blond foreigner is addressing him.

 " _Ciao_ ," he offers quietly.

 "What's your name?" Demyx continues, his excitement almost skyrocketing.

 "... Why is it of any importance to you?"

Demyx’s mind falters.

In the grand total of two weeks he’d been in the Organization (almost three now, mind you), Demyx has never once encountered a single person who didn't follow the structured pattern of conversation. Even the rudest of the _mafioso_ , like Marluxia, would have given their name in a proper fashion. It was just something that everyone did; an unspoken rule. When someone from the _famiglia_ asked for your name in a formal meeting situation, you gave it to them, and then asked for theirs in return.

Demyx wonders if the older boy was unaware of that he too was a member of the family, and decides to push on in attempt to keep their fledgling conversation alive.

"My name is Demyx!"

 "Okay."

Demyx gives the boy a long look. Perhaps he didn't hear him clearly the first time.

 "And what's your name?" Demyx asks again, keeping a friendly tone to his voice.

"I already asked why it would be important for you to know my name," the boy counters.

"Because that's what you're supposed to  _do_. I said _my_ name, so you have to say yours." Demyx rolled his eyes as if the boy was asking whether or not the sky was blue.

"That's stupid logic."

Demyx's cheeks burn with embarrassment. His plans, his well-practiced conversations, his confidence-- crushed. The first meeting he ever had with anyone outside of the estate has quickly become a failure. Demyx doesn't know what to do next and instead turns away from the boy and fiddles with the sleeve of his jacket, feeling the familiar prick of tears welling up.

The lilac-haired boy is lost in his writing, oblivious of the fact that he has just single handedly crushed the spirits of the other boy sitting beside him.

Until, that is, a choked sob breaks the heavy silence.

The stranger looks up to see Demyx crying into his hands, body jerking with every tear shed.

"Hey- don't do that."

"B-B-But you... you a-aren't being nice!" The blond sobs and wipes his nose on the underside of his sleeve.

The boy tenses, fingers tightening around his book. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"N-n-nn-n- no you aren't." Demyx pulls the hood of his jacket over his head and buries his face into his lap. "You just think I’m stupid and that I’m not worth knowing!"

 "Well, maybe you are!" The boy barks back. "Maybe you are just a stupid crybaby who annoys people with stupid questions and bothers them when they're trying to get work done!"

Demyx is quiet, tears falling down his face silently as his hands grab at the hem of his sweatshirt. His eyes are transfixed on the open page of the boy’s book that is ripped jaggedly in half, tumbling away from the spine of the paperback like a physical confession.

"There he is!”

Demyx gingerly turns around to see the _capo_ exiting the large, ominous building, the smile on his face a mile wide. Signore Xemnas doesn't seem to notice the pink puffiness of his Demyx’s eyes or the tear marks streaking his face as the man stands up the boy and gives him a handshake that rattles to the bones.

"You've been approved, Demyx!"

"Approved?" Demyx echoes quietly.

"Yes! Into the Organization! From this day forth, you are the ninth member of this esteemed _famiglia_. "

Demyx is stunned for several minutes before he turns his gaze to the nameless boy, sitting in the same spot that he was before.

"I see you've already met Zexion,” Xemnas nods approvingly to the lilac-haired stranger. “He has just been accepted as Number Six. You two will be spending a lot of time together, so be sure to get along."

Demyx and the stranger- _Zexion_ , stare at each other as Signore Xemnas leads the blond boy to the car, talking about how working alongside another young man will make adjusting to the _famiglia_ a breeze.

 

* * *

 

 

Zexion watches as the car pulls away and shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the bright blue eyes that seemed to stare right past his carefully constructed walls. He picks up the ripped page from the book and gingerly tucks it into the back, sliding the paperback inside his jacket and walking quietly inside the Organization headquarters.

 

* * *

 

            A week later, an envelope slides underneath Demyx’s bedroom door in the estate. Having seen several moving boxes in the dormitory hallway earlier that morning, Demyx is enthusiastic of the prospect of new friends. Inside the envelope is a gold, star-shaped sucker and a signature that simply reads _VI_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there were any questions about the (weak) translations, _famiglia_ is just "family" and _capo_ is short for _capo famiglia_ which is essentially the head boss of a mafia family, aka Xemnas. 
> 
> There will be three more chapters after this from various years in the future of Demyx's life, so those will be edited & up shortly. Also, there is another Kingdom Hearts Mafia AU story that I wrote shortly after this one back in the day, so I've lumped them together in the same universe and will have that one up in a bit. In the meantime, thanks for reading!
> 
> ♡


	2. adagio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people forget that he is only 16 years old with a 16-year-old body that can only take so many things, be it running from assassins or braving social situations. Sometimes Demyx forgets too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few years in the future. All members of Organization XIII are now assembled. 
> 
> Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol. (The legal age of alcohol consumption in Italy, where the Organization is based, is 16.)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> _Originally written in 2011 on Livejournal_

Demyx is sixteen when he attends his first alliance banquet. _Famiglias_ , whose friendship and alliance with the Organization stretch across the globe, come to celebrate Xemnas and the other _mafioso capos._ The Nibelheim Famiglia is one of the first to arrive with Cloud leading them into the building, the sharp green eyes of the group surveying the crowd. Hayner of the Twilight Famiglia is soon to follow, with more and more _famiglias_ pulling into the estate in a sea of limousines. Demyx finds himself submerged in a web of heavy accents and native tongues, the speakers perhaps not understanding each other completely, but united in their causes all the same.

Demyx quickly begins to feel small and unimportant among the mass of older, incredibly significant people circulating throughout the room. Minutely, the blond slips through the crowd of people, about to sneak away from the hustle and bustle of the throng before a thin hand reaches out and grabs at his collar.

"There you are!" Demyx is whipped around so that he is staring into a familiar face. A wave of relief washes over him.

"Larxene! Thank God, I was worried I wasn't going to find anyone I know," the teenager exhales.

Larxene raises a single thin eyebrow and points over her shoulder. "You know them."

Demyx glances at his companions at a table of Organization members as Roxas boredly watches Axel and Luxord argue over a horse race that had been on TV hours earlier.

"Uh, yeah, but I think they're doing a good job being entertained without me," Demyx adds as he watches Roxas flick Axel on the side of the head.

 Larxene sneers at the sight. "I see your point." She gives Demyx a shove towards the growing line of people that have gathered at the extensive buffet table. "Well come on then, we might as well fill up if we’re going to have to listen to Xemnas talk about how great he is for the tenth time today.”

Demyx follows the girl as she zigzags through the crowd toward the queue and gets in line behind the head of the Valentine Famiglia, who is followed by three men wearing dark suits.

"What do you think about this whole shindig?" Larxene asks as she eyes a platter of steaming dumplings at the center of the buffet.

"I dunno. It's all a little overwhelming, really," Demyx admits as he smooths a hand over his black dinner jacket. It fits snuggly on the _mafioso’s_ body, much better than any other suit he's worn in his life. Demyx distantly wishes for his comfortable slacks and worn sandals.

"I know what you mean," Larxene says with a curt nod. "Being the only girl in the Organization is dreadful on days like these. Axel was spending so long getting ready in the bathroom that I had to do my makeup in the hallway with the mirror from a compact."

 Demyx is ready to defend the meticulous grooming his friends go through for finer events like today, but finds his mouth promptly clamping shut as someone's hand touches his own.

It isn't a simple tap or a nudge that one normally feels when in a large crowd of people all standing relatively close. On the contrary, it felt...  _familiar_. Friendly, even- almost like the way a companion would catch your attention by brushing their hand lightly against your own, if not a bit... electric.

Demyx shivers and pulls his hand back quickly, turning toward the crowd to see who it was that had brushed up against him. Instead, he gets an eyeful of pink hair and a nose-filled with the scene of roses.

"Finally you’re here!” Larxene grabs Marluxia by the lapels and gives him a shake for being tardy.

"Of course I’m here,” Marluxia drawls lazily, brushing the girl off. "Just because you’ll settle for getting ready in the dimly lit hallway with half of your makeup does not mean I will."

Demyx can see a long stream of insults forming in Larxene’s head as she looks over her shoulder at the blond teen.

"I’m going to force Marluxia to introduce me to some of his attractive friends from the Bastion Famiglia. Save me a plate of food.”

"Oh," Demyx fumbles to answer, thrown off guard by the change of plans. "Alright. Have fun and uh, good luck?"  

Larxene gives an approving nod of thanks as she hauls Marluxia off, pointing at different attractive boys standing about the large banquet hall.

With a sigh, Demyx ducks out of the buffet line and seeks refuge at an empty table in the dining area. There are couples and groups of people scattered through the dining hall, chatting and eating and enjoying the atmosphere of the soiree. The teen sinks into an open chair at a vacant, pulling at the starched pant leg of his suit and rolling his head about his shoulders, feeling the anxiety and tension coil in his tired muscles. Throwing professionalism into the air with abandon, Demyx lays his head down onto the tabletop and closes his eyes. Sometimes people forget that he is only sixteen-years-old with a sixteen-year-old body that can only take so many things, be it running from assassins or braving social situations. Sometimes Demyx forgets too.

"Is this seat open?"

Demyx's body gives an involuntary jerk as his mind immediately recognizes the voice that has just spoken to him. Demyx nods into the table, not daring to look up with his cheeks as red as they have become. However, when he hears a quiet sigh and the familiar, singular _thrum_ of fingers against the tablecloth, Demyx lifts his head slightly, only to meet Zexion’s pointed gaze straight on.

"Are you drunk?"

"No," Demyx murmurs as he sits up and adjusts his suit, trying to make himself presentable in front of his _famiglia_ member. "Just tired."

"And lonely," Zexion observes, nodding over to the dance floor where Larxene is sashaying hand-in-hand with a dark haired stranger.

 Demyx regards Zexion for a moment, trying to decipher whether the other teen is talking to him in order to embarrass the blond, or if he is just poor at starting conversations.

"I'm not lonely. I just don't feel like dancing," Demyx comments evenly.

Zexion gives a passive shrug. "Fair enough. Here-" The lilac haired member makes a gesture over his shoulder. Several seconds later, a waiter arrives with a silver platter, two full champagne glasses resting on top. Zexion gives a _grazie_ and takes the crystal glasses off of the platter, holding one out to Demyx.

"Xemnas said no alcohol for us tonight."

"We were Italians first before we were Organization _mafiosos._ It would be impolite of us to not have champagne in commemoration of such an event," Zeixion replies simply.

Demyx eyes the glass hesitantly before reaching out for it. "Okay. But one glass."

"A single flute of champagne will hardly get you drunk."

Zexion's words fall on deaf ears as Demyx’s hand accidently bumps the other teen’s fingers in reaching for his glass. An electrifying pulse shoots up Demyx’s arm as he grabs the glass quickly and reels back in his seat, stunned.

"Something the matter?" Zexion asks, eyebrow cocked.

"Err- no. Just-"

"Tired, right." Zexion dismisses the moment and raises his glass towards Demyx. "To the Organization, for glory and prosperity."

As Demyx clinks his glass quickly with Zexion’s and takes a sip much larger than he anticipates, he almost misses the way the corners of Number Six’s lips turn up in something of a pleased, kind smile.

 

 

Almost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The other two chapter are bundled together so they will be edited and up shortly. 
> 
> ♡


	3. scherzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zexion pulls his luggage to his side and shoots the blond a look.
> 
> "I’ve been informed by the others that you get frisked every time we fly."
> 
> "It doesn't take two hours for them to pat me down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping ahead a few years! Thanks for reading this far!
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> _Originally written in 2011 on Livejournal_

 

Demyx is eighteen when he goes on his first non-stop flight from Italy. Before this day, a warm summer's morning in the middle of July, Demyx had flown from Europe several times, but it had always been a multiple day ordeal. Traveling abroad had always been broken up in at least two days with seemingly endless connecting flights and security checks and one-night stays at questionably expensive hotels (on the Organization’s budget). Now, as Demyx pushes open the doors of the Catania International Airport, he begins to mentally question whether or not being felt up by countless TSA agents was as bad as the looming 15 hour flight.

 

* * *

 

"Remind me again why we're here at four in the morning," Demyx mumbles mostly to himself as he tugs his wheeled luggage along the polished floor of the airport. The large building is eerily quiet with only a few experienced businessmen and women walking quickly to get to their assigned gates. The newsstands and coffee shops are barely beginning to open, sleepy employers rubbing at their eyes as they prepare for the busy day ahead.

"Because," Zexion begins, approaching a self check-in kiosk. "It was either this, or a red-eye flight in the evening. And it's important to arrive ahead of schedule, especially when traveling with you." The lilac-haired man pulls his luggage to his side and shot the blond a look. "I’ve been informed by the others that you get frisked every time we fly."

"It doesn't take two hours for them to pat me down."

"Yes, but the amount of time that is normally spent going through security is far too long. With a direct flight, we'll go through once and be done," Zexion explains. He taps away at the touch-screen several times in quick succession before the machine hastily prints out two boarding passes.

"I'm going to die," Demyx informs him.

Zexion looks at him plainly. "Not before we get to Japan."

 

* * *

 

 

As the duo proceeds to the security line, Demyx's stomach begins flip-flopping as he gets closer and closer to the first TSA agent.

"I can't do this," Demyx says quickly to Zexion, panic evident in his voice.

"Don't be foolish," Zexion whispers back, "If you start acting panicked now, they will come over here to question you. Don't do anything to compromise the security of the _famiglia_."

"What if I forget everything I'm supposed to say?"

"I've prompted you daily for the last month. You'll be fine." Zexion presses his hand against the small of Demyx’s back and gives the man a push forward. Demyx stumbles forward slightly to the security guard who waves off Zexion and the blond to separate lines. Demyx quickly takes off his sandals and places them in an empty tray along the conveyer belt. He hefts his suitcase up onto the belt, pushes it toward the metal detector, and walks toward the menacing body scanner.

"Please proceed through, sir."

Demyx’s heart beats loudly in his ears as he shuffles through the detector, praying for the machine not to beep at him.

So, naturally, Demyx does a retake when he is through the other side with not a single audible beep.

However, when the blond peers over his shoulder at the detector and sees a light at the top flashing red, vanishing all momentary joy, he wonders what he ever did in his past life to deserve this hell.

"You've been randomly selected for a screening, sir," the woman informs Demyx. "Please step into the inspecting area to your right."

Demyx’s heart drops to the floor as he stares at the inspecting area, a nemesis of all _mafiosos_. The inspecting area is essentially a glass box with no ceiling, large enough to fit at least ten people. However, when Demyx steps into the transparent room, in front of all the other travelers currently in line to go through security, he is only approached by one other man.

"What is your name, sir?"

"Demyx Dolciana."

“And you are flying to?"

"Japan, for business," Demyx replies evenly. His instincts have taken control of his body, and everything that runs through his mind begins to slow down and become comprehendible.

"Alright, sir. I'm required to take a swipe sample of your hands to check for pyrotechnics as a safety protocol. Please hold out your hands with your palms facing upward and fingers together."

Demyx pales as he thinks about his prized possession of hand grenades that he packed away not an hour before they arrived in an Organization-designed bag that was invisible to the scan of the metal detector. He quickly considers his options of escape. He could get close to the guard and knock him out, claiming he fainted, but that would be risky, and Demyx has a feeling Zexion would be thoroughly unhappy if he did so. The blond considers simply distracting the security guard and sneaking out of the screening area via the door behind the guard-

"Sir, please place your hands in front of you," the guard repeats, interrupting Demyx's not-so-clever train of thought.

Nervously, Demyx opens his hands in front of the TSA agent and wonders how much trouble he would get in if he threw up on the man right then and there out of nevers. He watches as the man takes out a test strip and peels away the wrappings, about to run it along Demyx’s hands.

Before a knock sounds on the door behind them.

"Excuse me, sir, but Mister Dolciana is my cohort from the Organization that is accompanying me for the flight today."

Demyx wants to weep with happiness as Zexion appears on the other side of the glass. The security guard turns around, and Demyx swears that his face completely drains of color when he sees the other man.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Signore Zambarano. I didn't recognize him as-"

"No need to worry," Zexion replies as he plucks Demyx by the sleeve and pulls him politely out of the screening area. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

Demyx retrieves his baggage and shoes from the other end of the conveyer belt as Zexion continues ahead toward the shuttle. The blond uneasily slips on his sandals and tugs his suitcase behind himself, jogging to catch up with Number Six. The lilac-haired man enters the shuttle quietly when the doors of tram open. Demyx sprints to squeeze inside before the doors promptly close behind him. Inside, he spots Zexion sitting in the very back of the train, no one else occupying the same compartment space.

Silently, Demyx sinks into the seat beside Zexion with one chair separating them, luggage between his legs.

Demyx stares out the window of the shuttle as it pulls away from the platform and picks up speed. He can practically feel the tension rolling off in waves from Zexion.

Demyx rests his chin in his hand and feel useless all over again. Zexion was always the one that ended up saving him in the end. Whenever the two of them had been together during an pressing intelligence issues or dangerous situation, it was Demyx who faltered, and Zexion who snagged the blond from the grips of death so many times.

Without Zexion, Demyx wouldn't be alive.

Or currently being thrown in prison for having pyrotechnic residue on his hands. Demyx knew it. To everyone around him, he was just a stupid boy and no-good crybaby.

A hand reaches out and touches Demyx’s knuckles gently. "I'm not mad at you."

"What?" Demyx turns in his seat to find Zexion running a hand through his hair, regarding the blond thoughtfully.

"It's not your fault you were pulled aside for screening. That man should've known better than to stop a member of the Organization. Didn't  _recognize_  you." Zexion scoffs aloud, shaking his head in irritation.

"Wait, are you telling me that we have connections... with the  _airport workers_?" Demyx whispers a bit too loudly.

 "Yes, as a matter of fact, we do." Zexion gives Demyx a look that instantly makes him lower his voice.

"Well, uh… where else do we have connections, then?"

Zexion gives a proud, if not smug smile. "Everywhere."

Demyx shakes his head. "I don't believe this. If we have people everywhere, then  _why do I get groped every time we're at an airport_?"

"Because," Zexion answers smoothly, "It's amusing."

" _Stronzo_ ," Demyx swears at Zexion from under his breath.

Zexion lets out a bright laugh as he slides and arm around Demyx’s shoulders to close the distance between them, and kisses him soundly. " _Bastardo_."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes: stronzo = asshole & bastardo = bastard. Much much love between these two. The romance feels less organic here than I originally thought (upon writing this 6 years ago) but like I said, just lightly edited it without gutting the plot in its original form :) 
> 
> A slightly shorter chapter with one left. Thanks again for reading!
> 
> ♡


	4. sonata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, several years ahead again! Roxas has become the head of the famiglia (fulfilling his Chosen One status, naturally). 
> 
> Warnings for non-graphic violence.
> 
> _Originally written in 2011 on Livejournal_

 

Demyx is twenty-two when he gets his first long-term injury. Naturally, being a _mafioso_ , the man has experienced more injuries and broken bones than he could count. However, nothing could have prepared him that warm summer evening.

 

* * *

 

Demyx laughs towards the stars as Axel stumbles out of the restaurant with Saix, face hardened into an unamused frown, holding up the inebriated redhead by the shoulders. The warm air of the night floods over them as Demyx and Roxas watch as Saix juts his elbow in Axel’s side for blowing kisses at Roxas over his shoulder.

 "Do you think Axel will be okay in the morning?" Roxas jokes as they turn down the street onto a boulevard overlooking the sea.

 "He should be," Demyx replies with a chuckle. "He'll get a major hangover, that's for sure. But he's Axel after all. He'll bounce right back in no time."

"Good, he’d better,” Roxas chides, but keeps his eyes trained on the members in front of them all the same. "Did you enjoy the celebration?"

 "I did! The dinner was delicious, but we are mostly incredibly lucky to have you as our successor, Roxas."

 Roxas rolls his eyes and waves off Demyx’s praise politely. "The luck is all mine, the transition will hardly be difficult with a _famiglia_ as loyal and strong as ours. Zexion was the one who suggested the outing, actually."

"Is that so?" Demyx glances over his shoulder to the aforementioned _mafioso_ who is walking several paces behind Roxas and himself, hands in his pockets, eyes alert and surveying.

For a moment, there's a brief break in the stern facade Zexion has up whenever the new _capo_ is around as the man smiles softly at Demyx, and then nods at the blond to continue conversing with Roxas.”

 "Yeah, he said after Signore Xemnas’ passing, we’d never really had a chance to come together as a _famiglia_ for hopes of the future instead of all of the mourning that’s been going on,” Roxas explained solemnly. He smiled up at Demyx quickly, as if hoping to not put a damper on the night. “He made the reservations and everything. Did you know that the owner of this restaurant is friends with Zexion? I would've never guessed..."

 “You'd be surprised how many  _friends_  he has," Demyx murmurs under his breath.

"Hm?" Roxas asks curiously.

"How about we go to that gelato place you like? I think it's just around the corner," Demyx suggests quickly, looking around for the familiar store.

"Are you sure? We can’t have Axel wandering around too long and accidentally firing his gun or something."

"Well, I want some gelato too! We can grab some and meet the others at the car. Zexion can handle it." Demyx smiles when Roxas’ face lights up as he nods and points down a street.

 "I think if we take this road it'll lead right to it."

Demyx follows the younger man as he leads the way down the backstreet. Looking upwards at the clear night sky, Demyx sees strings of clothing lines hanging above their heads. The blond laughs to himself in thought of what a bizarre clothesline he and Zexion would have if the estate didn't have a dryer. Suits, slacks, ratty old tee-shirts, and silk boxers. Demyx can't even imagine Zexion daring to let his Armani sport coats hang out in the open air.

"Hey Rox, did you ever have a-"

 

"Um- Demyx-"

 

Demyx rips his gaze from overhead, his body acting automatically on its own from the trepidation in Roxas’ voice. The _capo_ backs up until he is at Demyx’ side and reaches for the gun holstered inside his jacket. Demyx grips the back of Roxas’ shirt collar as he sees what the younger man spotted only a moment before.

Blocking the end of the street are four, maybe five men on massive motorbikes, guns raised and pointing at Roxas’ head.

Demyx jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out a grenade. With his free hand he pushes Roxas back against the wall and stands in front of his boss' body. "Stay behind me, okay?"

"But-"

"Roxas! Listen to me!" Demyx’s stern voice is enough to make Roxas nod and remain where he is.

A motorcyclist to the right revs his engine and charges forward towards them, gun now aiming at Demyx’s forehead. Demyx waits until the man is closer before biting off the pin of his grenade and throwing it hard at the assailant.  

The firearm explodes and shakes the street and the people within it. Demyx presses Roxas further against the wall and shields him from the shocks of the explosive. Number Nine can feel bits of metal from the obliterated vehicle hit his back, but it goes ignored as another attacker rears forward on his bike threateningly. Demyx readies another grenade before a shot is fired into the air.

Instinctively, Demyx pushes Roxas backwards forcefully, trying to get him to the ground and out of the path of the bullet. He ducks against the brick building to avoid the bullet, but nothing prepares him for the pain that sears through his arm.

Demyx cries aloud as a fire from inside his arm erupts and flares throughout his whole body, sending him falling to the ground and clutching the entry site of the bullet. Demyx sees Roxas staring at him in horror, but all his mind can do is process the cut on the _capo_ ’s cheek and the gash that's running dangerously close to his left eye.

Enraged, Demyx grits his teeth hard and rummages inside his pocket for two grenades. Ripping the pins out simultaneously, Demyx throws them with a strength that Xigbar would be proud of, crying out from the pain that tears through his muscles in the process.

The explosion is monumental, sending debris and the aggressors flying through the air in a chaotic scene of light, smoke, and metal.

Demyx crawls on his stomach toward Roxas to check his boss' condition. The younger man is frazzled when Demyx reaches him, but otherwise unharmed.

"Dem- Demyx we need to take you to the hospital," Roxas says in a frenzied panic, reaching for the man’s arm for inspection of the bullet wound. "Oh God, Demyx-"

"Rox, it's okay-"

Demyx is cut off by an inhuman scream that rips through his throat as he feels the bones in his right leg suddenly crush under an immense weight.

Demyx’s eyes well with burning tears as tries to jerk his leg back, only to have it further catch him underneath what had fallen atop of him.

A motorbike.

An assailant stands in the middle of the alleyway, blood profusely dripping down his forehead as he grins wickedly, breathing as if he had just run a marathon. Roxas shouts as the man lifts his arm, shaking from adrenaline and pain, and points the pistol in his hand directly at him.

Gunfire rings through the air as Roxas and Demyx screw their eyes shut and fear for the worst.

 

When no further pain floods through their bodies, Demyx is the first to open his eyes warily to see Zexion at the mouth of the street, gun raised. A pair of cool, familiar hands reach out and hold Demyx’s head comfortingly as the _mafioso’s_ vision blinks out, the stars threaded in between the clothing lines disappearing from view.

 

* * *

 

 

Demyx awakes forty-eight hours later to a room that has become all too familiar. The pale blue walls and thin linen sheets have almost become old friends to the blond, the steady, electronic beeps of a heart monitor next to his bed a soothing noise to the man's ears.

Wearily, Demyx turns his head and is greeted by an equally as familiar, if not out of palce, sight. Sitting in the chair beside Demyx’s bed is a sleeping Zexion. A worn paperback is resting on the table beside the hospital bed, a curtain of lilac hair falling cross Zexion’s face.

As if on cue, Zexion’s cool blue eyes open and peer into Demyx's as if he is reading everything on Number Nine’s mind.

“You’re awake,” Zexion says, mostly to reassure himself of the fact.

Demyx nods. “And alive.”

The smaller man gives a weak smile, the exhaustion evident on his face. “Of course you’re alive.”

“Didn’t think I’d be. The pain is about a million times worse right now,” Demyx informs, feeling his head throb from the ache that courses through his body.

“I would think so,” Zexion replies. “Although, you don’t have a motorbike lying on your leg anymore. I’ll get a nurse to give you some painkillers.”

Before Zexion can lift himself out of the bedside chair, Demyx’s hand shoots out and rests on the hitman’s arm. “Don’t.” Demyx winces as his muscles and bones protest at the movement. “Just, stay for a bit. Please.”

Zexion looks at Demyx for a moment before nodding understandingly and settling back in his chair.

The room is quiet for a short while, but it feels like a lifetime to Demyx as he listens to the heart monitor’s beep-beeping and wonders how he managed to survive.

“It was an ambush.”

Demyx lifts his head from the pillow ever so slightly, his green eyes wide and searching.

“What?”

“When you were attacked. It was an ambush. Xaldin thinks an American _famiglia_ is behind it,” Zexion elaborates, staring down at the ground in thought. “They knew we were going to be at that restaurant.

“How could they? That’s one of our safe locations.”

Zexion shakes his head. “I don’t know. A bug, maybe. Someone from the inside deciding that a wad of cash is worth more than their loyalty to us.” The man runs his hands tensely through his hair. “Fuck.”

Demyx swallows thickly, knowing that Zexion is taking into consideration the hundreds, if not thousands of other pedestrian allies he has created over the years. “Is Roxas okay?”

“The _copa_ is fine,” Zexion replies. “He’s a scratched up, but was discharged this morning after they kept him overnight as a safety protocol. He’s worked himself into a bit of a mess over you though.”

“Great,” Demyx groans. “I’ve made our boss a fretting wreck.”

 “That’s hardly important,” Zexion remarks. The shorter man leans forward, his eyes meeting Demyx’s and holding his gaze steady. “You protected the _copa famiglia_. You did your job.”

 “Yeah, and got my ass handed to me simultaneously.” Demyx cautiously lifts the bed sheet with the hand not contained in a sling to see his leg supported by a series of splints. “What’s my diagnosis, besides beaten to a pulp?”

“Bullet shot to the upper arm. They removed it via surgery, and it should heal cleanly with minimal scaring. However, your tibia is broken and your fibula is shattered. You’ll be in a cast for a while, unfortunately.”

“Will I be able to walk on it again?” Demyx asks gravely.

Zexion nods slowly. “Within time. The healing process is going to take a bit. I can see if Marluxia can knows any homeopathic remedies that can be beneficial for your recovery, but at the moment, it’s a waiting game.”

“Perfect.” Demyx tries to wiggle his toes and instantly regrets it as pain jolts his body. “Gods, I’m in for a hell of physical therapy after this.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Demyx looks up, perplexed. If anything, Zexion had always told him to push himself harder. Suddenly, Demyx realizes the indistinguishable looking upon the man’s face.

Worry.

“Something’s wrong.”

Zexion lets out a ragged breath, and if Demyx didn’t know any better, he’d say it was from anxiousness.

“I was worried. About Roxas. About you.” Zexion shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight for a minute. I stopped to call Saix and let him know that we were returning back to the estate when I heard the gunfire.” Zexion runs a tense hand through his hair angrily. “I should have followed you.”

“Zexion.” Demyx’s tone of voice causes Number Six to look up, and when he does, he finds a soft, reassuring look on the blond’s face. “You didn’t know Roxas and I were going to get ambushed. There was nothing you could have done.” Demyx gestures to the heart monitor with a toothy grin. “I’m alive, Roxas is alive. It’s a done deal.”

“I’ve never wanted for this to happen, though,” Zexion slides forward in his chair and takes Demyx’s hand in his own. He holds Demyx’s palm to his cheek after giving it a tender, apologetic kiss.

“I know.”

Zexion closes his eyes and cherishes the flutter of the assassin’s pulse underneath his fingertips. The same veins that fueled the _mafioso_ to protect the _capo_ with his life, and strived to live and see another sunrise regardless of the protests his body was shouting to give up and die.

“ _Ti amo_.”

Demyx smiles tenderly and leans carefully the side of the bed and presses a kiss against Zexion’s warm lips.

“ _Ti amo, anch'io."_  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:  
> -Ti amo = I love you & anch'io = too/as well
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Like I said in the first chapter, I have another mafia AU that fits into this universe with Riku and Sora that I will upload in a bit. If you like this universe, I will definitely try to write more!


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